Lover, You Should've Come Over
by Bontaque
Summary: A Mike/Trevor breakup fic, with Jeff Buckley lyrics and letter writing. I don't know why I did this.


Trevor stepped out of the shower, feeling only mildly better than when he had got in. He sat down on the bed, glad that the hotel at least had decent mattresses. He hit shuffle on his iPod and almost flinched when Jeff Buckley started to sing. Tonight was not the night for sad songs. It wasn't until that line that he really regretted not just moving on to the next song.

_I drink much more than I ought to drink, because it brings me back you..._

He deserved this. He deserved Mike breaking up with him, asking him to leave. He was destructive and he brought everyone down with him but he just couldn't help it. He hit the button on his iPod that took him to the album that the song was from. _Grace_. He hit shuffle again. He deserved this.

This time, he did flinch. Of course, there were only so many songs on this album, but for this one to come first? _Their_ song? The song that Trevor had drunkenly sung to Mike through his bedroom window to get him to forgive him for being a dick for the thousandth time?

Trevor would have laughed at how easy it had been back then. How easy it had been to get Mike to forgive him when he was only forgetting to come over when he'd said he would or avoiding Mike's touching in public. Now, he didn't think singing to Mike would work.

_Maybe I'm too young... to keep good love from going wrong._

Trevor took a deep breath. He. Deserved. This.

_But tonight, you're on my mind, so you never know..._

That was the line that had won Mike over but he'd kept singing anyway. Mike had laughed and told him to stop being an idiot and to just come upstairs so he could kiss him.

_Sometimes, a man gets carried away, when he feels like he should be having his fun. And much too blind to see the damage he's done._

Trevor wasn't blind. He'd seen the damage in Mike's eyes when he'd asked him to go away for a bit, to give him his space. He could, or at least should try to fix this. He couldn't leave the city, the state without saying anything. He knew Mike didn't want to see him right now, but he could still apologise one more time. He would have phoned if he thought that he could speak.

Trevor picked up the hotel stationary and began to write:

Mike

Baby, I'm so sorry. I don't deserve your forgiveness. I have a problem, I don't mean to keep hurting you. Please don't think that it means that I don't love you. Never think that. Even if I don't say it as much as I should, even if I still get awkward in public when you hold my hand... I've never been good with that. You know that.

I'm sorry for messing up again. I'm not asking you to take me back, I'm just asking for you to be happy. I really hope you enjoy working at your new job. If you ever want to see me again, just call and I'll be there.

I love you, baby. I always will.

Trevor

Trevor looked down at what he'd written. Only at a time like this, when he had no choice, would he write something like that. He cringed just thinking about some of the words he'd just used. He read over it again. It wasn't the first letter like this he'd written. He often tried to write things down for Mike but every time, including this time, he screwed the paper up and threw it into the nearest bin.

Trevor turned off the light. He needed to get some sleep for his long bus ride tomorrow.

XXXX

Mike sat on his bed, turning his phone over in his hands. He wanted to call. He wanted to ask him to come back, so they could talk about this. But he really needed this job, really needed the money and Harvey was right.

Wasn't he?

He loved Trevor. Trevor was what he lived for. But... he was trouble. Harvey had told him that sometimes, you just have to do what's right for you. It didn't stop Mike from pressing play again, starting the song that he'd been listening to for the last half an hour.

_Broken down and hungry for your love, with no way to feed it..._

Mike looked at Trevor's name on his phone. He pressed the back button, getting away from the number, but it only returned him to his wallpaper: a photograph of Trevor asleep, his hands tucked under the pillow.

_Oh lover, you should've come over, 'cause it's not too late._

Was it too late? He could call him. They could talk about this. Mike remembered the first time that he'd heard this song, being sung badly at one in the morning, through his bedroom window. Trevor had been trying to apologise for something, Mike couldn't remember exactly what. It couldn't have been that bad because he'd let Trevor up into his room moments later. It only reminded him of just how many times Trevor had had to apologise.

Mike turned his phone off, stopped the music and got into bed. He had a long day ahead tomorrow.


End file.
